I Wonder When The Night Will Reach It's End
by awqcward
Summary: Uta Dittmar is a respected, pureblooded witch about to finish her final year at Durmstrang. Upon Grindewald's demand, she attends Hogwarts as his asset against Dumbledore. While there, she meets an eerily dark and fascinating Tom Riddle. TRIGGER WARNINGS FOR NON-CON, VIOLENCE, MURDER, GORE, AND GENERAL PSYCHOPATHY. A Dark Fic. Please review if this story interests you.
1. Chapter 1

Morning comes slowly as I drift, sleeplessly, through a semi-conscious state. No thoughts stick except a vague longing that the sun would never come. Seemingly, minutes pass, but the sun shining it's way across my bedroom illustrates it has been hours since I last checked the time.

The silent grandfather clock across from my bed reads 7:10am. It's smooth, polished red wood makes a mockery of the plain white walls that decorate the room. With a flick of my wand my curtains peel away from the large windows to my left, sending light pouring across every surface available.

With a small crack, the house elf Torlo appears at my bedside.

"Does Miss wish for breakfast?" Torlo asks.

Taking quick inventory of my mental state, I note the lingering slowness of sleep.

"A cup of black tea and amphetamines, Torlo." I relay as the elf disappears.

As I finger through my closet, looking for appropriate dress, the elf reappears, setting breakfast on my small jade table.

"Torlo?" I acquire the elf's ready expression. "Send the others about their usual chores, except Arde, who you will take with you to pick up my school supplies."

"Yes, Miss." Torlo looks to the floor in a submissive gesture. I leave the elf to turn my attention back to clothing.

"Did you inquire of His preferences?" I wonder, hopeful the elf had not failed.

"M-Mistress f-forbade Torlo from f-finding-"

"Mother forbade it?" I ask, fury dancing behind my grey eyes.

I don't wait for an answer. Instead, I rush from my bedroom, pushing Torlo to the floor in a huff.

I follow the length of richly decorated hallway and have descended the staircase before becoming aware of my state of undress. In embarrassment, I run back to my room to ready myself for the day. Ready, though, I was not.

Today, I am meant to meet with Strelnikov and Aerndal. These men are among Grindelwald's close and trusted. My mother had warned me weeks prior how unlikely it would be, if I were not to present myself well, our family could continue as lavishly as we are meant to. Losing Grindelwald's favor, as I know, is as close to a death sentence the esteemed Dittmar line could suffer.

While reputation of our name remains untainted, I am reminded to do nothing that may alter our path through the coming centuries.

I settle on a blood red gown; It's sleeves are long and stick close to my skin. The cuffs are a faded peach lace, as is the bodice of the gown. It is as semi-formal as I dare allow myself to be seen in under the pretense of business.

"Pearl!" I demand the house elf in charge of my beauty routine. "Ready me for this meeting."

I watch myself being made up in my vanity as I sip my tea.

My mother and I have the same black hair and pale skin. Her eyes are a brilliant blue, seemingly from a different world, piecing you form a reality beyond the physical. My father calls them his glimpse into the afterlife.

"Mother?" I inquire as she enters my room. Her eyebrows are pushed together in discomfort.

At my inquisitive look her features soften.

"I am well." She assures me. "You've dressed well."

"Torlo was little help, in fact," I accuse, "I was told you would not allow any reconnaissance."

"You would do good to remember your place," she warns. "He would not be so forgiving about spying."

"What?" I gasp, "It's just for wardrobe help! What if Grindelwald were to view our family as lesser on account of my presentation?"

I am silenced by a single look from her.

I change the subject. "Will father be returning to see me to Durmstrang this term?"

"We will have to see." She answers, placing her arm out for me to grab. As I rest my forearm over hers, the pull of apparition seizes me.

We land in a grassy clearing. In all directions there seems to be little more than a stray tree or wild flower.

"Lady Dittmar." A male voice behind us calls. My mother and I spin, as a number of men apparate around us.

"Erig." Mother acknowledges.

Erig suddenly is moved backwards. A new man appears in his place.

This man grabs my mother's hand and places a chaste kiss upon it.

"Lady Dittmar," He addresses mother in a resonating baritone, "I presume this to be your daughter?" His eyes travel to me as mother speaks, not leaving or wavering slightly.

"Lord Grindelwald, this is my daughter Uta."

I bow politely, thankful for an excuse to escape his glance for a moment. I extend my hand to him and he brushes his lips over my knuckles.

'"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Uta." He speaks gently, releasing my hand.

"It is an honor." I say truthfully.

He gives me a true smile, relieving some of the wrinkling around his mouth. I recall suddenly the photograph I saw in the paper of him as a Durmstrang student; at my age he held himself in an air of superiority and darkness. Though aged at least half a century since, I found the features in his face that were unchanged. His cheekbones still protruded in an aesthetically pleasing way - he still looked as if he were waiting for an excuse to step over the unworthy, just to relish in the joy of the power he knew he had. He was still exceedingly attractive, I noted. Shit, why wouldn't I look like that I wondered enviously.

"Might I say that you look wonderful in that color, Uta?" Grindelwald complimented.

I smiled politely, unable to accept the compliment, but giving thanks.

Grindelwald stepped away and turned his attention to the group at large. There were seven people in the clearing, not including my mother and I. At that moment, another crack sounded. My father was in the clearing too, now.

"Ah, Dietrich, good of you to grace us with your presence, finally." Grindelwald patted him on the back with what was obviously too much force. My father stood stiffly, awaiting perhaps an order or perhaps a curse. To my surprise, he was neither cursed nor accosted. Instead, Grindelwald turned his attention back to me.

"This term will be your last year?" His eyes narrow and I nod in confirmation. A voice in my head reminds me it was expected I show proper respect.

"Yes, sir, my final year at Durmstrang begins shortly."

"And you, Lady Dittmar?" Grindelwald walks towards her in what looks like a manic frenzy. "Is this your final year at Hogwarts?"

At this nonsensical question I felt confusion. I look to my mother to find her brows knit together again.

"I am not sure what you mean, I am afraid." My mother lies, plainly. Why was she not masking her tells?

"Your daughter wants to know why you aren't lying better." He tells her, wand extended in threat. Her eyes widen in alarm. In fact, mine likely did as well.

My mother tries futilely to grab her wand but it is hexed away in mere milliseconds. I look in fear for my father, who is standing, impassive, wandless, not meeting my eyes.

I do not reach for my wand.

"Crucio!" Grindelwald curses my mother, who falls and writhes on the ground. His countenance has changed from passive danger to an active force. I can tangibly feel the power emanating around him.

He lifts the curse, looking calm and happy. It would have looked normal if he were browsing books in a shop or eating a nice dinner - it was disconcerting and fear-inspiring to see him wear that expression as my mother lie sobbing at his feet.

"You are allied with Dumbledore, are you not?" He demanded of her. Bending down and fisting the collar of my mother's dress his voice darkened considerably. "Don't lie to me."

I distantly wonder if I had ever seen my mother so helpless, and if I could do anything about it. I still had my wand, but even if I were better trained, I doubt I could escape with my own life, let alone my mother's or father's life. Was I meant to be tortured too? I regret supplementing my breakfast with amphetamines; I was far too ready to do something, anything.

I feel a sense of loss that I had unknowingly forfeited any last meal.

"Uta, your mother, Ariadne, has allied herself against this cause." He spoke, "Allied herself against me."

He walked from her. She was now being held at wand point by the minions who arrived with Grindelwald.

"This is unforgivable, is it not?" He tested, mere feet away me. He was approaching me slowly.

My immediate response would be a resounding no. Because this was obviously not the answer he was looking for, I tried to rationalize the answer he wanted of me.

She shared secrets, or plans, or other information with an enemy. Enemy was a subjective term, but having already pledged an allegiance to the wizard now standing before me, mother had betrayed all commitments she made.

My conscious admitted that she might have a good reason for changing her allegiance.

"Ariadne could have redacted her allegiance and not divulged our secrets, Uta. You know this." Grindelwald pried my opinion.

"My mother is going to die." I state, though it was answered as if I had posed a question.

"Undoubtedly." Grindelwald supplied, grinning.

"Betrayal is unforgivable." I supply back monotonously.

"I agree!" He spoke, wand pointing at mother. "Avada Kedavra."

I muffle a gasp as I watch mother fall dead to the ground. It seemed unreal. I am unable to tear my eyes away from mother for what feels like many ages.

"Dietrich, now-" Grindelwald began, gaining my attention.

I can see fury and indignation in my father. I want to tell him, 'Me, too.' I wanted to wrap myself in his embrace. Before I can properly register what's happening my father is on the receiving end of his own killing curse.

I choke out a strangled noise of grief. Upon hearing it, all eyes are on me. I close my eyes and brace myself. After a moment of nothing happening, I crack my eyes open.

"You haven't raised your wand." Grindelwald points out. I realize I had forgotten about it.

"I have no chance of winning." I admit.

He laughs gleefully, in agreement.

"You are going to become my newest addition." He comments, nonchalant. "For now …" He trails off.

My world goes black.


	2. Chapter 2

**dub con and** ** _non con warning for this chapter_** **happy reading**

I wake abruptly, in contrast to the slow rise to consciousness I had experienced earlier that morning. In alarm, I jump from the bed I'm in. My wand is nowhere to be found. I sit, disgruntled, back on the bed, anticipating someone's – probably one of Grindelwald's minions – arrival.

After minutes pass with no visitor, I find myself trying the bedroom door to no avail. The door is locked. I really wish I had my wand.

When I notice the stifling silence of the room, I try to otherwise occupy my awareness. I can hear occasional creaks when I adjust myself on the bed I've claimed vantage on. I notice the tall ceiling of the bedroom. I notice the dark green walls. On them, a solitary mirror with a thick gold frame, an empty portrait, and one small window. I refrain from looking out of it, because it makes no difference what I might see outside. For now, I just enjoy the soft white light that allows me vision.

Eventually, Grindelwald himself joins me. He does not knock. Instead, he strides purposefully in, waves a locking spell at the door, and stands at the foot of my bed. I become aware I'm referring to the bed as mine at that point.

"Technically, this bed is mine," he informs me.

"You read minds?" My voice comes out mechanically.

"Yes, I do." He confirms. Wasting little time, he continues, "You will attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You will be my spy. You will do all the things that I ask of you. You will train with me for a matter of time-saving."

"Train with you?" I stand, but do not approach. "In which subjects? To what end?"

"Of course, I will be open to you interests, but my goal is for you to master Occlumency so that no one may read your thoughts."

Sensing I have nothing to say, he doesn't pause for me to interject any agreement or refusal.

"You have just short of a year to accomplish your goals."

I refrain from saying my goals are not his goals.

"Ah, but Uta, our goals are one and the same," he smirks.

I say nothing, yet.

"You will take the unbreakable vow."

At that, I startle. He looks into my panic-filled eyes with something akin to joy.

"You will take the vow or you will take the death curse."

I nod my consent and he summons a second wizard to officiate. I grab his extended arm and try to stop thinking.

"Uta Dittmar, do you swear to keep your identity as my spy a secret, on threat of death?"

I try my way through the words, ensuring the phrasing will not produce any unseen loopholes.

"I do." I say.

"And do you swear, to the best of your ability, you will perform your duty as a spy to my specifications, on threat of death?"

"I do."

A strange smile spreads across his face. For my safety, I add my own clause.

"Will you promise to keep me alive this coming year, so long as I continue to learn and ready myself to be your spy?" I speak slowly, ensuring I do not miss any vital information.

"Uta, I swear to keep you alive under those circumstances, to the best of my ability."

The gold bands ensnaring our arms fade. Upon looking into his eyes again, I am frightened to find the strange smile still on his face. It feels like a threat. Not letting go of his grip on my forearm, he dismisses the other wizard, who disapparates with a small gust of wind.

His hand tightens around my arm and I release my hand to pull away as he clamps down harder.

"Please, let go." I ask loudly.

His grin gets wider, feral, as he releases me. I cradle the appendage close to my chest and feel for the damage with my other hand. I likely won't even bruise.

"You're going to bruise, dear Uta." He says.

I take a few steps backward, to which he follows in suit. I suddenly remember this man killed both my mother and father mere hours ago. I keep retreating, hoping against all hope that Grindelwald is just going to hit me and be done. I've been beaten before, and it certainly isn't something I like to experience at length.

I stop retreating and brace myself for a curse or a fist. Instead, his hand clasps around my throat. He walks forward, pushing me back to the wall at a quick pace. I hit the wall painfully and he closes his fist around my neck.

I begin to panic in my head, unable to calm my will to survive. After I lose the ability to breathe, my hands rush over his in some sort of plea.

When his hands leave my neck I gasp in a lungful of air. He puts my shoulders in his hands and slams me back against the wall. I moan out loud in surprise and pain.

When I opened my eyes, Grindelwald is upon me, face close to mine. Unaware why, my eyes travel to his lips, then make their way slowly back to his eyes.

He closes the gap with his mouth, pressing close in unbridled lust. I feel his tongue along my lower lip, soft, teasing, before he bites down hard. My whole body jumps in response. He explores my mouth eagerly while I try to match his fervor.

He fists a hand into my hair. As soon as I think of his fist tightening he pulls my entire head back by my hair. I moan, out of my head in the sudden sensation. My head is pulled so far back my neck begins to ache uncomfortably.

Grindelwald moves from my mouth to attack my now exposed neck. No gentleness or tender thought intended, he bites savagely into the soft part of my throat. Not removing his mouth in the slightest, he loses his bite and begins sucking. It doesn't really hurt until he replaces his bite at full force, sucking harder, still.

My body arches towards his of it's own volition and suddenly I want nothing more than to be completely consumed by this wizard – this great legend of evil and power.

He moves away and pulls me with him, hair-first. I shout out in shock but it doesn't seem to phase him.

"Stop, stop," I demand. "Ow!"

He releases his hold and moves behind me, unzipping my dress in his own time. As I shrug out of it to turn around, he stops me.

"Don't move," he commands. I can do little but comply.

I feel his gaze on my body. His hands suddenly vacate their previous positions. I feels my bra and underwear vanish, knowing he's using magic. I remember then that he's taken my wand.

"I want my wand." I inform him.

"Shut up." Is his response. This incenses me.

"You can't just take my wand!" I exclaim in frustration. "Lord Grindelwald!" I cry out in distaste, no longer willing to have sex with a man treating me like I'm a captive.

When I turn, he is no longer draped in his velvet moss-green robes, but completely naked. I can't stop my eyes as they trail down his body. He isn't chubby in the slightest but he is covered in a thin layer of fat. My eyes continue downwards, where he is stroking himself lazily.

"You're never going to forget this." He promises, stepping toward me.

"W-wait!" I stutter. "I don't – No."

His grin is back as he walks closer, wand in one hand.

"No." I try again, looking at my dress which lay on the floor behind him. I feebly try to cover my breasts. "No." I try to say it again more firmly but it comes out in a panicked rush.

He lazily flicks his wrist at me.

"Go lay on the bed." He commands.

I feel myself going. I lay on top of the covers, clenching my legs shut, still covering my breasts.

He climbs in and leans over me.

"Open your legs."

I feel exposed. I feel helpless. I can feel the heat between my legs in stark contrast to his thighs. I try to will him away. I try to will his penis away from my body as he positions himself closely – too close – and speaks again.

"Put your hands above your head. Grab the bed frame and don't move them until I tell you to."

I feel myself start crying. Tears leak from the sides of my eyes and I feel them run onto my arms' position next to my face.

In my head, I hear myself chanting a litany of _please, no, please, no_ , on repeat.

"Tell me how this feels." He instructs, sliding two of his fingers inside of me, thrusting with a sickening ease.

"I'm enjoying it." I find myself speaking out, "It feels good." My crying begins in earnest as I sob in shame.

"I know," he comforts me like I'm a child, "I know."

His fingers fill me comfortably, causing shivers of pleasure to run up and down my body.

"Tell me how you feel." He torments.

"I need more," I sob, "It's not enough." I push up against his penetrating fingers. He withdraws at that and slaps me across the face. I cry out in relief.

"I'm so disgusting. I need to be punished."

Grindelwald's eyes cloud over in lust and he releases the Imperius curse over me.

He guides his rock hard cock to my hole. I tense as he rubs me from clit to asshole, dripping precum over my most private parts. I tense each time he positions himself near my asshole. In sweet relief, he plunges himself into my pussy, pushing a moan out from the back of my throat.

I feel the tip of his dick pressing painfully into my cervix. Looking down, I see he hasn't even fully entered me. There's still a few inches, at least, outside. With no warning, he thrusts the rest into me. I let out a wail as he pushes into my cervix. Unrelenting, he pulls out only to ram himself back inside again.

I'm dimly aware of the noises I'm making at his every thrust.

"Turn over," he tell me. I obey, wanting to feel more.

When he enters me from behind I feel a whole new pleasure. I don't notice or care when he pushes a slender finger into my asshole. I've done the same on occasion.

He pulls out of my vagina completely and slams back in again, causing me to groan incoherently. He does it a second, and then a third time.

I scream in earnest when, on the forth plunge, he penetrates my ass.

"No!" I pull away from the sharp pain. He ignores my distress, wrapping his left arm around my neck and pulling me back up to him. I can feel every one of his hot pants on the back of my neck. He slowly moves in my tight ass, causing me to break into a fit of sobs. It hurts.

"Stop. Please stop." I beg, "Please, please, stop."

He pays me no heed, holding me by the hair instead of my neck. In addition to sobs, I feel snot running down my face.

"Shut up." He demands. I stop begging, but find myself unable to stifle my sobbing.

"Shut up." He commands with more anger, punctuating it by forcing his length up my ass to the hilt.

"I'm trying." I promise. Eventually, I pass out. When I wake, I notice a door open that wasn't there before – a bathroom.

* * *

An uncommon occurrence suddenly was not so rare. He taught me Occlumency during that year. I tried to convince myself if I have been treated better I would have progressed fasted.

It was to make me stronger, he told me. It was in my best interest to be used by him – sexually, violently, under torturous curse after curse. As loathe as I am to the methods he employed, I could feel the truth in them.

I no longer cared that my parents died. I no longer cared that he murdered them. I did not object to his control over me. I didn't want to. I was numb to the world.

He allowed me to torture his men. I took great pleasure in that until he allowed them their comeuppance.

His plan was for the Ministry of Magic of England to find me, ragged, thin, tortured, a shell of a former child. The Ministry would then have little choice to shelter me from him in their care.

Hogwarts students attend school for a year longer than those in Germany. I really was the perfect choice for his mission. The Ministry would gladly, with haste, dump me into school so as to get me out of their custody and therefore responsibility. It was too easy to gain the access to Dumbledore he required of me.

My stream of thought in broken as the door to the train compartment slides open. My first reaction should have been to demand those entering my compartment leave. Reminding myself I have no good reason to break character so early in the game, I remain silent, content to observe.

The three men who enter the compartment look to be of age, so it's likely they're close or at their final year. They are already dressed in the robes the Ministry provided me.

The skinny one glares, demanding to know what I'm staring at.

"Your cheekbones," I admit. "I've always wanted a kind like them It gives the impression of royalty or kingdom, in your case."

A compliment, I reason, puts suspicion at ease. Especially when it's under the context of envy and admiration. The man gives me a calculating look before nodding in satisfaction.

"I am Tom Riddle," he says, not extending a hand. "These are Malfoy and Lestrange."

"It is good to make your acquaintance, Tom." I continue, "I'm Uta Dittmar, the newest addition to this wizarding establishment."

Malfoy's eyes widen in acknowledgement. He moves across the aisle to sit next to me.

"Lady Dittmar," he extends his hands to mine. "Abraxas Malfoy," he mutters, kissing my knuckles.

I chuckle as I receive my hand back but then the words I plan to say get caught in my throat.

"I was going to remind you, I am merely Dame Dittmar." I admit. "You have heard of my familial death?" I inquire.

"Yes, of course," Abraxas begins, "My father visits Germany extensively for business, you know." He stumbles over his bragging.

"My condolences, Miss Dittmar." Tom smiles politely, despite his obvious disrespect of my title.

"And you are?" I turn from both boys to the third, Lestrange.

"Sebastien Lestrange." He speaks shortly, barely affording me his attention. I fight the sudden urge to hex him.

Tom suddenly breaks out in laughter. "I'm sure Sebastien's manners still require reform." He apologizes on his friend's behalf.

"Lady Dittmar," Abraxas begins.

"Uta." I enforce.

"Uta," he corrects, "you are here because of Grindelwald's reign in Germany, am I correct?"

My eyes harden. I ignore the boy, instead looking out of the window at the magnificent green landscape passing us by. I know of the Malfoys, them being another purebloodline. The family dabbles in wealth and power, not loyalty or moral sense.

"You practically fell off the map, so to speak, this past year," Abraxas pushes. "Certainly, all of us are curious as to your whereabouts in that absence."

Instead of answering the prying Malfoy, I turn to Tom, the only one of the three I hadn't felt the urge to curse.

"Your friend seems unaware that I have no interest in that conversation."

"They, admittedly, have yet to learn the subtle art of communication."

Surprisingly, at this, both Abraxas and Sebastien mumble their apologies to me.

"It is quite disappointing for those in such prominent bloodlines to be so inferior socially." I agree, purposefully ignoring said men's disgruntled looks.

"I admit," Tom says, almost embarrassedly, "I am curious as to how your parents died."

"They lost Grindelwald's favor." I answer, ignoring the twist of emotions in my belly. I observe their reactions closely.

Across from me, Lestrange looks as if the only thing he wished to ask was _'how?'_ Malfoy, of course, looked unsurprised, as if he had already been aware of it somehow. Perhaps he listened in while his grandmother gossiped over tea. Tom, however, eyes gleaming curiously, leans forward in his seat and begins speaking.

"And they are dead; You are not." He avoids asking anything directly, intending for me to derive my own questions from his statement and answer accordingly.

I fight the urge to narrow my eyes as I answer. I knew my arrival would cause inquiries. It shouldn't be a surprise.

"I have been imprisoned." I try to manipulate my voice into something resembling sorrow or fear or some kind of hesitance. What comes out of my mouth is cold, unfeeling, and dead-sounding. I figure to keep this temperament when I inevitably speak with Dumbledore. It is believable, as judging by my companion's responses.

Tom looks at me closely for the first time. At his gaze I am reminded of my physical condition. I refused the potions the healers at St. Mungo's gave me for weight gain. My hipbones and ribcage protrude visibly, though they are now obscured through my robes.

I know my cheekbones are hollowed and my eyes are dead. My hands resemble a dementor's horrid grasp. I prefer myself like this. Everyone who looks at me will know I am separate from them. They are fleshy; they glow with life, like distant suns. I am pale, ghostly, a breed from the moon or the grave.

"Well," Tom smiles, "Welcome to Hogwarts."

When the trains arrives at it's final destination, the night sky has just begun to blacken. There are no escorts to the castle, so as we exit the train I ask Tom if we're expected to walk.

"Carriages." He gestures to a line of awaiting transport as we round a corner.

"They've been enchanted," supplies Abraxas.

"Enchanted to do what?" I raise an eyebrow.

"To do what?" Abraxas laughs, "To carry us to the castle!"

"Then what are they for?" I gesture to the creatures ready to draw the carriages forward.

"What are what for?" Abraxas asks dumbly, inclining his head.

"The creatures, obviously!" I throw my hands in the air in an exaggerated gesture.

"There are no creatures." Tom says seriously.

Surely, they are there. Perhaps only I can see them? Why can I see them?

"Join us, Uta." Tom supplies.

I enter a carriage with them and sit next to Tom. When he moves too close I move away, uncomfortable.

At the entrance of the castle a teacher stands. He's yelling through the crowd for first year students. That's me, technically. Without announcing my departure, I leave Tom, Abraxas, and Lestrange walking. They would notice my absence eventually.

"Sir?" I inquire gently, "This is my first year."

I feel odd, surrounded by young children.

"Your name, child?" He asks, expectantly.

"Dittmar, Uta."

He inspects a list

"Ah!" He breathes, as if he has just made a great discovery. "May I welcome you to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

He shoves a meaty hand into mine in greeting.

"I'm Armando Dippet, the headmaster here at Hogwarts."

"It's good to meet you." I supply.

"Attention! First years!" He bellows, "Follow me."

He walks, holding me around the shoulders, babbling the whole time. I ignore the desire to pull away.

"Now, usually, dear, our first years are quite younger than yourself," he chuckles in his idea of good humor. "Not smaller, though. You're going to make good use of the upcoming feast, I'm sure."

He continues, "Only after we've sorted we've sorted you into one of our four houses. Don't worry about the age difference. Occasionally we have transfers – more often now under Grindelwald's reign of terror –"

I zone out, bringing my awareness to the great hall we've all just entered. There are four long table, absolutely filled with students. In the direction we're walking a table in sat perpendicular to the four house tables.

"Is there a seating chart?" I interrupt Dippet's speech. He just gives me a cheeky grin and turns to address the audience.

"Welcome, all, to a new year!" He announces. "Remember to greet all of our newcomers warmly." He affectionately smiles at me and I'm reminded of Grindelwald. I find myself unable to mask a grimace. Thankfully, Dippet's already looked away.

He goes through a list in what appears to be alphabetical order. In little less than a few minutes, when called, I step forward and await the shared hat's judgement.

Would the sorting hat have the ability to pass through my Occlumency shields? If it can, it does not make me privy to that information.

"I think you would do well in Slytherin." The hat speaks into my mind. It's Legillimency, at the very least.

"Well, do it then!" I reply to the room of students watching.

I distantly notice a small laughter bounce between the room.

"Slytherin!" The hat announces. The table furthest to my right breaks out in raucous applause. I scan up and down the table as I approach, meeting Tom's eyes. He gestures to a spot that has just opened up near him and I sit.


End file.
